Battle Stations
by zebra-scarf
Summary: I needed a job. He needed an assistant. Simple right? Only not so much... Eventual: Jim Moriarty/OC
1. On The Go Again

_Beep, beep, beep._

I woke up with a jolt- the sound of my alarm scaring me, _more than it really should_ out of sleep. Once my heart settled back down and I'd turned off my clock I wrapped my comforter around me more tightly as I tried to wake up while avoiding the morning chills. Why is sleeping so great? Every goddamn morning it's torture rolling out of bed. It gives me the emotional equivalence of what I imagine a divorce would feel like if you were still in love:

"I love you so much baby, but I can't stay."

"_Oh why ever not darling? You know you want to stay._"

"Yes…I do, but- but there's other things that must be done."

"_Oh lover, just stay a moment longer."_

"If I do, I'll want to live in this moment forever."

"_Would that really be so terrible?"_

"Urgh." Is the very unattractive noise I make as I quite literally _roll_ out of bed. I'm sure my downstairs neighbor can hear the loud thud my body makes as it comes into contact with the floor. Really though, the pain is for the best. I was almost going to let my subconscious talk me into staying in bed all day. Something had to be done and the floor was conveniently right there.

My toes turned numb against the hard wood floors of my new apartment as I trekked over toward the window to greet the day.

Cloudy.

What a surprise. When is it not cloudy and threatening to rain here? For a vacation destination I can see the subtle appeal of London but now that I've moved to work and live here I'm slightly regretting the choice. Weather like this could cause depression and I'm already a slightly less than adjusted person. But there's nothing to be done. Paperwork has been filed, money and living arrangements were taken care of weeks ago and now I have to make my bed and lie in it. Unfortunately figuratively and not literally- today's day numeral uno of work. _Oh god- work. _I think, mentally groaning.

I probably wouldn't have such a sour attitude as I stretched in front of my window overlooking other apartment complexes if I had any actual idea of _what_ exactly my job would be entailing.

When I was younger I use to have absolutely no desire to do any sort of work. After graduating high school I went to a local community college and studied accounting. Because accounting is safe. Accounting will always be relevant and in demand. Because back then I had no passion or love for anything, at all. Every day was the same. And in a way, that was good. It kept me from thinking how absolutely unhappy I was. But bad thoughts can only be kept away for small periods of time. They eventually always find a way back into the foremost thoughts. And when mine did- I took things a little too drastically into my own hands.

It lead to a really, really awfully terrible day happening; which lead to an unfortunate trip and forced detainment in the hospital.

It was there I met a man who was even worse off than me. You could probably flip through a book of phobias and pick any random obscure fear and he'd have it. This guy, let me tell ya, was honestly even scared of his own shadow. He'd have panic attacks and wasn't able to function without crying or hyperventilating. And since I was already having a really bad fucking week, I took it upon myself to help him snap the flip out of it.

We sort of grew to depend on each other during our stay.

I was discharged after two weeks. About two months going about my normal life again I got a call from him. He couldn't leave his house. Agoraphobia had reared its ugly head for him. It turned out we only lived a couple city blocks away from one another. After that first day with him I started my new career as a personal, full-time assistant for the _emotionally_ compromised. Very discreet and always present. I had realized that even though I lacked any personal direction in life I could help other people.

My phobia filled friend/client eventually moved on and got married and got most of his fears under control. After him I started working for a man who suffered from compulsive lying and then after him- two sisters who found themselves completely unable to let go of each other's hand when they left the house.

I liked working for all those people, but eventually they had all gotten better at managing their lives. It had been a couple months after the sisters and I was running dangerously low on my savings when I received an email from an interested employer.

From the beginning the whole thing seemed slightly on the fishy side. Our whole communication was only ever through email and tex. I found it strange, but then again the whole nature of my self-created job was just that: _strange_. Besides letting go of my doubts from the start made, the whole thing good smoother. Because the next thing he did was have me go through a sort of vetting process- and after he deemed me useable I set off for the Land of Her Majesty. I'd never really wanted to live outside of the US, the farthest I'd ever traveled was Seattle and that was only because there was a mandatory conference I had to attend for the company was I accounting for.

But a job is a job and I was in need of the money. For the phobia guy and sisters I had lived with them- in the beginning it's always strange, programing yourself to someone else's' lifestyle. But doable- besides it enabled me to be as hands on as possible while eliminating me having to rent out a place of my own. The compulsive liar, who was also a slight sex addict, had me rent an apartment in the same building as him. Close, but with space- that was by far my favorite arrangement.

When I first received an email about this London job I was weary- how would I find a place to live? How does one even move to another country for a job? I had all these questions… but my employer-to-be seemed to have an answer for everyone.

After I'd passed the vetting processes I was informed that my employer had already picked out an apartment for me- he sent me pictures to see if I found the place appealing. And while I completely fell in love with it, I was hesitant. There was no way I'd be able to afford something like it with the usual price I charged.

Everything seemed to be moving so fast and yet slow considering all the fine details that I was going to have to make.

I walked toward my bathroom to shower as I remembered the particular email that sealed the deal, so to speak.

_Dear Mrs. Ayla,_

_While I understand your concerns for your living arrangements, please understand that I shall be the one taking care of monthly payments. You will be required to be on call 24 hours six days a week as my personal assistant. _

_-M_

And then before I knew it I was on a plane headed for London. And that's all that had happened to me up till this point in my life.

After I had showered and dressed for the day; appropriately for moving about and looking slightly professional, I checked my phone for any messages. My only instruction, which I had received yesterday were:

_Meet my associate at noon, tomorrow. Café Morning on Parksway St. You will be given instructions. _

_-M_

It was weird. But I suppose there were always weirder things in the world. So I ate a slice of toast then started my walk toward the café. It was only a couple blocks away.

JMJMJM

**I don't own Sherlock. **


	2. Taking Hold Again

As I stood outside of the bank my face seemed to be irrevocably set on scowl. It took my walk over here from the sandwich shop to realize my job wasn't exactly turning out how I thought it would.

JMJMJM

The fishy, fish feeling I had when contemplating taking this job increased tenfold when I arrived at the cafe. The first thing I noticed once I walked inside was that there were no other occupants except an old woman behind the counter (who looked a frightened shade of white) and a man sitting at a table in the back. The second thing I noticed was the atmosphere. The cafe was too silent- I could hear that ringing noise that happens only from the absence of sound. The air was tense and my whole situation felt like a set up- but a set up for what? I was just a personal assistant. From my position by the door all I could really make out about the man was that he had blonde hair, but as I moved closer I could see he was very handsome- in a rugged, well-experienced sort of way. Basically: he looked like a man that had seen some shit.

Once I reached the seated man I slid into the chair across from him. He was leaned back against his seat like he couldn't be bothered to look engaged at my presence. There was an unlit cigarette behind his ear. He wore a black button down shirt that was snug- it showed off his incredibly toned chest and forearms, along with black jeans and black shoes. He looked dangerous and bored, like a docile tiger lying in the sun.

"Hello?" I more asked than said. If he wasn't the person I was supposed to meet than I was going to feel pretty silly in about a second or two.

"Hello there, luv." He said with a thick British accent. He slid a manila folder across the table toward me and gave me an expectant look. My mind flashed back to every CIA movie I had ever seen and this folder thing seemed pretty standard. Okay... since when did my life become all cloak and daggers/ secret agent stuff? I was just a goddamn personal assistant!

I choked out a laugh without any humor. "Sorry, but... the fuck is going on here?" The bored, routine look slipped from his weathered face and was replaced by a surprised one. His eyes shifted toward the woman behind the counter and with a scared _'meep_!' sound she left for the backroom. Well, I suppose there goes my witness in case this guy was some sort of murderer.

"Excuse me?" He asked with an edge to his words

"No, no, no- _excuse me._ But who the capitol eff are you? Where is my client?" I asked making exaggerated hand movements- pointing at him, pointing at the folder. It was too damn early for this BS. He leaned forward towards me.

"You are Ms. Ayal, yes?"

"..." Well then- it seemed he knew my name. At least if all else failed I had the right associate. "...Yesss...?"

"Then your Jim's new assistant?" He tone was starting to sound like he was talking to a five year old.

"Well- yeah but- who is Jim? I think I've been pretty understanding so far only having communication with my client via electronics but my patience ship is starting to sink if ya know what I mean."

"I really don't, dear-"

I cut him off, "Another thing- stop with the pet names." I gave him my best serious look, which probably came off more irritated than I-mean-business. "If I'm not here to meet Mr. Moriarty then what exactly am I doing?"

He studied me for a couple of moments. His eyes shifting from mine to looking at my hair, clothes, posture- like he was trying to see if I was for real or not. Then after he seemed to find what he was looking for he let out an agitated sigh and rubbed his eyes. He muttered something like, "'Course he didn't think it important to actually _explain_ anything."

"Alright. Kay- listen luv-"

"Hey!"

"Alright! Listen Ms. Ayla, no- that's too formal for me, what was your first name again?" I leaned back in my chair deciding being professional was no longer a role I had to play.

"I thought this was the Land of the Prim and Proper- you haven't even introduced yourself and yet you're asking for _my _name? I see someone's parents checked out during the manners lessons..." Again he looked at me as if he couldn't believe I was real or maybe it was just that I was talking back. But the next thing I know he's laughing loud and obnoxiously. It thoroughly pissed me off, but even in my mad state I couldn't deny he looked about ten times more attractive with a laugh on his lips. His eyes crinkled at the corners and I had to use all my energy to keep the blush that wanted to travel up my face down.

"Right, right- of course." He held his hand across the table, "I'm Sebastian Moran but you can call me Seb. Sebastian is too much of a mouthful." I eyed his hand, wondering if it was some sort of trap before I grasped it in my own.

"Well, _Mr. Moran- _I'm Alt Ayla. You may call me _Ms. Ayla_." I said holding his hand in a firm grip- which he returned even stronger. He laughed again and holy fucking mustard and cheese sandwich my heart actually _fluttered_.

"Alt huh? I like you. Much better than his last. Well now, to business I suppose? Jim-"

"Mr. Moriarty?" I cut in.

"Yeah, yeah- anyway, Jim has _trust_ issues. He doesn't meet people till they've proved their not out to _get him_. Till then you'll be working through me. Pretty easy situation to grasp, no?" Before I could answer the old woman returned with two cups of coffee. Mr. Moran's in an over-sized porcelain coffee cup while mine was in a paper to-go cup. Guess that meant I wasn't going to be staying long.

I thought about what he had said before I constructed my reply. "So... he has paranoid issues? But… unlike my previous clients I haven't been hired to _help _him, but simply work for him? Like an _actual_ personal assistant?"

Moran leaned back in his chair again and formed a gun with his pointer finger and thumb. "Bingo." He said as he pretended to shoot me. I thought this over as I sipped my coffee, which was rich and delicious. So... this was unexpected. Well I suppose I couldn't think that since I really had no expectation in the first place. But- hell it was still a job. I was in no position to decline the pay and besides I was living practically rent free. Nothing had really changed, so I decided to be fine with my new position.

"Alright then." I finally said after a couple minutes of me drinking and thinking and him studying me (or if I wanted to be vulgar I could almost swear he was _checking me out_). I grabbed the folder and checked out what was inside: a bunch of forms that looked like bank statements, along with a page that looked like an itinerary for the day.

"So then- that should explain everything for you for today. You'd best be off now Alt. Don't want to be late now." Moran said with an amused smile on his lips. I gathered the folder and my purse then started for the door before I turned around to face Mr. Moran again.

"Can I ask you a question, concerning our mutual employer?" He raised an eyebrow and nodded. "Is what I'm doing safe? Is he a good guy or is this dangerous?" I wasn't sure if my question made sense but I waited for a reply nonetheless.

He tilted his head to the side and smiled fondly, like he was recalling happy memories, "He's the most dangerous man you'll ever meet, but I'd be lying if I said it wasn't fun." He took his cigarette from behind his ear and lit it. "But if all else fails- you can count on this: when you're working for James Moriarty, you'll never be bored." I didn't know how to respond to that, so I simply nodded my head and steered myself toward the door.

The first thing on the days scheduled was another meeting. This time though the paper said _'Meet with Mr. Jeffrey Davis. Play game. If you are successful decline application. If you fail, approve application. If application approved record information.'_ Good god just what had I gotten myself into? This meeting was to take place in a sandwich shop down town. I hailed a cab and watched the buildings pass me by.

I wondered what my life could have been like if I hadn't ended up in the hospital. If I had kept with accounting... how absolutely _boring_ I could have been. Sure, I wasn't exactly glamorous now, but I was having a sort of adventure. I was on my way, to meet a stranger and play a game with him that would result in the approval or decline of something... Okay so my life wasn't all that adventurous but it was surely steeped in a ton of mystery!

The cab pulled over and I tried to give the cabbie closet amount to the exact charge with a slight tip so I wouldn't have to deal with any change, but I'm sure I accidentally gave him too generous a tip if his 'Why thank ya ma'am!' was anything to go by. I stepped up on to the curve and assessed the place. It certainly didn't seem ominous or secretive like the cafe had. There were tons of people about, sitting inside and out (despite the cold early October weather) chatting and eating their morning meals.

_Oh fuck_, I thought. I didn't have a picture of what this guy looked like. Was I just supposed to shout his name and hope he'd reply with a, 'Here!' I looked all around, my feet almost taking me inside, when a man grabbed my sleeve as I passed his outside table.

"'Suce me miss- I 'elive you're lookin' for me." He said his accent very thick. If Mr. Moran had sounded what I thought a classic Englishman sounds like this guy was street-English. And he certainly looked it. He had one of those typical cabbie hats on, and modest clothing that was clean but a little dated.

"Oh? Um- right, Mr. Davis I assume then?" I asked snatching my arm back from him, I didn't particularly care for the way he was staring at me- like I was somehow beneath him.

"Heh, yeah. I'm 'im. Now, what'cha got for me luv?"

My eye twitched, "You may call me Ms. Ayla, _sir_. And I believe I should be asking what you have for _me_." Hell if I knew where my sudden bravado came from, but from the irritated but complying look in his eyes I guessed I had a sort of right. He reached into his pocket and pulled out two small, identical glass jars with identical pills inside them, then it them on the table. I looked from the pills to him with a 'please explain' look.

"Right then. This 'ere is my game. Simple game it is, I'll tell ya. I make my move, then you pick which pill you want'a take. Simple, like I said." He explained. I lifted on eyebrow then crossed my arms over my chest.

"Like hell my friend, am I taking one of those pills."

He rolled his eyes, and then gestured to a glass of water next to him. ""Course not Ms. Ayla. The losing pill'll fizz in the water, whichever one ya choose- we'll just drop it in there and see if ya picked right." Okay, it did seem simple enough.

"So then, what's your move, cause as far as I can tell this game is 50/50." I asked becoming more intrigued. He smirked.

"This." He pushed one bottle toward me. _Shit_... I thought. This is tricky. If we're being simple here he pushed the wrong pill toward me. But of course he'll expect me to guess that that one is the wrong so the real wrong one is the one he didn't push. However, he could expect me to expect that in which case the real wrong is the right wrong pill-

I stopped my thought there since they were circling. I briefly thought about The Princess Bride and the game of poisoned drinks. Only in that case the guy had cheated. I didn't think this guy was allowed to cheat. Something about this business seemed pretty serious- life and death almost. I choose my bottle and unscrewed the lid then grabbed his glass of water.

"Well here goes nothing." I muttered as I dropped the pill in the water. It sunk to the bottom and for a second I thought I had won- till it rapidly started to fizz and bubble. I frowned and looked up at my companion. His smirk was even more set in his face.

I sighed then took out my folder. "Alright then Mr. Davis it appears we have a deal, now I think I'm going to need some information from you..."

JMJMJM

This brings me to my position outside the bank. The information I had collected from Mr. Davis was about his children. My next assignment was to set up trust funds for the kids, it was so weird... at the end of our meeting Mr. Davis had given me a real smile and said, "Thank you. I'ma get right on it. You'll see." then he had left.

_Right on what?_ I wondered. I suppose only time was going to tell, but the frown was still present on my face. Just what had I gotten myself into accepting this job from Mr. Moriarty? I guessed only time could tell on that front too.

But that night as I lay in bed going over what had happened to me today I received a tex.

_What a good job you did today! I can't wait for all the fun to start. Sweet dream~_

_-M_

I stared at the screen for a couple minutes before locking it and rolling over into my blankets. The tex felt half condescending and half genuine. So I wasn't quite sure what to make of it. Either way I fell asleep with a smile on my face.

**I don't own Sherlock. **

**Thank you Eva for your lovely review. It inspired me to update. **

**Also: Thank you Jawslntern, Bexter95, jgal747 and Eva again for adding this story to you alerts. **


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